My Last Breath
by BleakRememberance
Summary: When Tony and Ziva are caught in an ambush and Tony is injured, does he have enough willpower to stay?  Will the words that he never told her and his secret feelings die with him?  Can the others convince him to stay alive, or will they lose him forever?
1. My Last Breath

**A/N: Based off of the song, "My Last Breath" by Evanescence. WARNING: This one's a tear jerker. ;(**

* * *

_**My Last Breath**_

"_Hold on to me, love_," She whispered, her dark eyes capturing his emerald eyes and holding them as she lowered him onto the parking lot floor. He stared up at her, bewildered and completely confused. She lowered her gaze from his face to his chest. She sucked in a sharp breath and muttered in Hebrew under her breath. Quickly, her leather coat came off and was folded into a suitable pillow. Gently, she lifted his head and slid the coat under it.

Her gaze immediately returned to his chest, where the bullet had pierced him right below his collarbone. Knowing what she had to do was going to be very painful for both of them, she swiftly shifted her position and muttered an apology to her injured teammate. She pressed both of her hands on his chest and winced at his startled cry of pain. Painful for both of them.

"_You know I can't stay long,_" Her eyes flew to his at this gentle and almost embarrassed admission of his being hissed through his teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut. She sat there, stunned, not knowing what to say to Tony admitting that he was dying. And although she knows it's true, it doesn't help to have the injured admit that he's heading down the . . . down the tunnel?

She shook her head with a small smile. She would never get those idioms right. But who would correct them if Tony . . .

Her thoughts were quickly broken off by the scuffing sounds. She looked up and saw the suspect who they had been chasing- that she had forgotten about in the terrible aftermath of their shootout- scramble up off the pavement where he had been laying, presumably dead, a few seconds ago.

She muttered another cussword in Hebrew and quickly pressed a kiss to Tony's forehead, silently apologizing for whatever was about to happen next. She then quickly transferred her left hand to his chest, freeing her right hand. She pulled out her Sig and leveled it at his running profile.

* * *

_All I wanted to say was I love you and I'm not afraid_

His thoughts whispered the words he needed to tell her. To let her know that it was okay to let him go. Hell, he already had let himself go. He had always meant to tell her the words, but had hoped to do it _before_ he died. He figured that, Worse Case Scenario, he would tell her _as_ he was dying. Too bad he didn't remember how hard it is to speak when your lips are dead set against moving.

He watched as her eyes widened at something he couldn't see. He watched groggily as she moved, too fast for his brain to follow, into a different position beside him. He nearly gasped in relief as the pressure on his chest ceased. Even though the pressure meant keeping the blood that was almost certainly flowing out of him inside his body, he couldn't help but wish that it would all just end. Not that he would ever tell _her _that. Or Gibbs, for that matter. They'd probably kill him themselves for even thinking something so stupid.

His thoughts were mercilessly cut off as her hand returned to putting pressure on his chest. If he was still feeling pain, then he must not be dead. He couldn't tell if he was relieved or disappointed at the development. He felt his eyes slid shut and he struggled to keep a hold of the pain that was threatening to tear him apart.

He felt something brush his forehead, soft as a butterfly's wing. He struggled to open his eyes, panicking when he could not.

_Can you hear me?_

He longed to cry out to her. To have her hear the words that he never said. Or to hear the words he needed said now.

He needed her to see him. He needed her to finally see the feelings that he could never put into words, but always tried to show in his actions.

He took a deep breath, ignoring the ache in his chest, and managed to open his eyes again. He blinked several times and willed her frame to come into focus. Finally, he could see her. Her face framed by her dark, dark hair.

He watched as she raised her Sig and fired a single shot. He winced as the sound of gunfire flew around inside his battered mind, smashing into things. Did she hit? He relaxed as a satisfied grin swept across her features, turning her breathtakingly beautiful once again.

She turned to meet his gaze. Her grin turned into a grimace, her lips pressed together into a thin line. She quickly holstered her Sig and ran the fingers of her free hand through his hair. He sighed gratefully and let his eyes slide shut as her fingers slid down his face and caressed his cheek.

_Can you feel me in your arms?_

_Holding my last breath_

_Safe inside myself,_

_Are all my thoughts of you._

_Sweet raptured light, it ends here tonight._

* * *

"_I'll miss the winter_," Tony mumbled, his pale lips struggling to form the words. Ziva didn't even glance up as she pressed the heel of her hand on Tony's wound. Tony's life was on a higher plain of concern than his sanity was. If practically incoherent ramblings were keeping him awake and alive, then she would take them. Anything to keep him with her.

"_A world of fragile things _. . ."

"Ziva!" Her head jerked up at her name, her eyes quickly searching for the person to accompany the frantic voice. Her eyes fell on McGee just in time to watch him stumble, his horror filled gaze locked on Tony and the crimson life pulsing out of his chest with every beat of his heart.

"McGee," Ziva said softly, trying to shake the frozen agent out of his stupor. She cleared her throat and called in a harsher tone, "McGee!"

When his gaze flew up and locked on her face, she began snapping orders. _Get Gibbs, call an ambulance, call Ducky_ . . . all in that order. All the while, silently pleading for him to stay. So she wouldn't have to be alone with Tony when he . . . if he . . . She quickly shook her head, her thoughts whipping around like Gibbs' car on tight city street corners.

"_Look for me in the white forest, hiding in a hollow tree_," Ziva returned her focus to Tony. His eyes were slowly dimming, his breaths coming in longer and slower bursts. Already, she could feel him slipping away from her. No amount of pressure on his chest was going to stop that. She kept her eyes locked on his, watching silently as he valiantly fought the losing battle with his body.

" _Come and find me_." He whispered, his eyes, dark in the parking lot, pleading with her to find him. To find him in the world his mind had chosen as a refuge from the pains of this one. To save him and take him with her, to wherever she chose to go. As long as he wasn't alone.

* * *

_I know you hear me_.

His thoughts slid like melting butter, down the slick slopes of his already fading mind. He struggled to say the words. The things he needed to tell her before he . . .

_I can taste it in your tears_.

Liquid fell and splashed against his face. His nose, his eyes, his lips. He squinted up at the sky and wondered why it would be raining. The forecast had promised a blissfully beautiful day . . .

He licked his lips and tasted the salt water.

_Oh_.

He slowly, and not without effort, returned his gaze to Ziva. Ziva; his strong ninja Mossad assassin. Silent tears were dripping down her face and onto his, bathing him and making him pure.

He stared up at her, hoping that she would read the acceptance on his face and follow in suit. He watched as she searched his face, struggling to find the fighting DiNozzo spirit somewhere. When she found none, she closed her eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears.

_Closing your eyes to disappear_

_You pray your dreams will leave you here_

He felt torn at the heartbreak tearing her face in two; half unbelieving, half crying out in agony. He didn't want to leave her, and certainly not like this. He needed her to approve, to say that it would be okay.

* * *

Ziva quickly opened her eyes as rescue came in to her and Tony in the only way it could. In the form of one very displeased Leroy Jethro Gibbs. She glanced up at him, afraid of what his reaction would be to her and Tony, but his reaction was nothing like she expected.

She almost wished that he was mad.

Instead, he hovered over her, his expression torn between shock and fear. He lowered himself onto his knees beside her and his hand flew to Tony's neck, searching for a pulse.

"He's alive," she muttered, coughing, her voice hoarse from her tears and her emotions. His steel eyes flew to hers and he nodded.

He jerked his head and ordered, "Go."

She stared at him, confused.

Not wasting any time, he slid her out of the way and replaced her hands with his. He leaned on Tony's chest hard, hoping that would be enough to drag his agent back from wherever he was.

Ziva and McGee were across from him, Ziva with Tony's hand clasped firmly between hers and McGee pacing, furiously barking into his cell phone. Ordering the paramedics that he needed an ambulance _now_ . . .

Gibbs glanced back down at his Senior Field Agent and blanched. They weren't going to need that ambulance.

* * *

Tony's world swam. Sounds and sights and smells all fading into one. Desperately, he struggled to hang on to something. Something that would keep him anchored to this world. He quickly realized that his sight was of no use to him, and the smells were nothing he wanted to remember. So he latched onto the sounds. The voices of his co-workers, his friends, his family.

McGee; His brother.

Ziva; His sister. More? Maybe.

Gibbs; Father? No. Father figure? Definitely.

* * *

Gibbs called out to his agents. One look at his face told them all they needed to know. They had minutes, maybe less, with their friend. Ziva bit her lip and returned her gaze to Tony's face, her hands crushing his hand between hers. McGee said one word into the phone and snapped it shut on the reply. He quickly came and kneeled next to Ziva, close to Tony's head. Hesitantly, he rested his hand on Tony's shoulder, trying to find a place to touch him without making him hurt more.

Not needing any convincing that his time was running out, they began to murmur their last words to Tony. All of them blending together in a symphony that kept time with his thoughts and heartbeats.

* * *

"_Say goodnight_," Ziva's voice comforted, her words giving him permission to leave. To go this time.

"_Don't be afraid,_" McGee's shaky voice broke through, reminding Tony of how he needed to be brave. If not for himself, then for them.

_Calling me, calling me_

_As you fade to black_

_Holding my last breath_

His own thoughts taunted him, assuring him that he would never wake. Never see them again.

"_Say goodnight,_"

_Holding my last breath . . ._

"_Don't be afraid_"

_Safe inside myself . . . _

_"Calling me, calling me"_

___Are all my thoughts _of you . . 

* * *

_Sweet raptured light . . ._

_"It ends here tonight_," Tony gasped, his hands grabbing air as he tried to hang on.

They all looked up, startled, as Tony's voice broke through their chants of comfort, shattering the sweet and soft scene.

All of their voices broke through at once. One forbidding him to leave, two pleading him to stay, and one undecided.

Sirens wailed in the distance as the promise of life came closer.

"DiNozzo!" A yell. A command. No choice but to obey.

"Tony," A whisper, a plea, a promise.

"Tony!" A cry, a prayer, a desperate call.

"_Holding my last breath_." A guess, a gamble, a life.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the sorta cliffy ending. xD Sad little oneshot, eh?**


	2. Hospitals

**A/N: Here I am with a (hopefully) good chapter. I have already gotten many threatening messages, concerning my well being if I left the story unfinished. I apologize for the wait as well. These past few weeks have been . . . hectic. To put it nicely.**

**So, here is the next and (unfortunately) not last chapter. :P As much as I wanted to . . .**

* * *

Gibbs stared at his hands; the rough calluses that covered them. Hands that could've saved his agent. His friend. His son. Hands that had, just minutes before, been pressed to Tony's chest, desperately trying to stem the flow of vital red leaking out of his agent.

Gibbs raised his shaky hands to his face, trying hard not to remember whose blood was covering them. Slowly, he drew his hands down his face, leaving red streaks in their wake. His blue eyes were unfocused, Tony's bloody frame forever imprinted on his brain

He let loose a large sigh and stared at his hands once more. Hands that, thankfully, hadn't been needed to save his agent. Not from death. Not today.

* * *

Agent McGee stood dazed as the ambulance holding his friend sped away, its sirens clearing a path for the bloodied and broken agent.

Tony had lost consciousness again when the ambulance had arrived. Gibbs gave a McGee one look from where he was kneeled, next to Tony's inert form, and McGee nodded, understanding in a glance. He hopped up and trotted over to the ambulance as the paramedics burst out, immediately shouting questions, some rhetorical but most demanding answers. As an elderly one planted himself in front of him, McGee tried to answer the questions as best he could. Ziva remained silent and only spoke when the paramedic glanced questioningly at the body lying several yards away.

The remaining paramedics had rushed over to the two unmoving bodies lying on the pavement, quickly earning them a snap from Gibbs. He didn't need confused, rookie paramedics attending to a dead man while another died under his blood soaked hands.

After they had Tony stabilized, they loaded him into the ambulance and whisked him off to Bethesda, Gibbs in tow. McGee and Ziva were supposed to stay and help the younger NCIS field team process the scene. One look at Ziva's blank face and one frantic call from Abby later had McGee heading towards the car, leaving the slightly anxious calls of the young probationary agents in his wake.

McGee grasped Ziva's elbow and gently steered her to the passenger's side of the car, without saying a word. He walked around the car and slid into the driver's seat. He put the car in reverse and pulled out of the lot, sneaking looks and Ziva as he did.

As he whipped out and onto the street, tires squealing in a way Gibbs would be proud of, he felt a warm hand envelope his own.

He smiled at Ziva and she squeezed his hand, a small smile on her lips.

They sped off towards the hospital.

* * *

They had taken Tony into surgery almost immediately after he arrived at the hospital. Still overcome by the events of the last two hours, Gibbs tried to follow them in but was stopped by a grizzly looking nurse, who gave him a pointed glare and gestured towards the seat by the door. Returning the glare with one of his own, he stood defiantly, glancing between the nurse and the door.

He was about to bust right through the doors to the ER when his cell phone rang. He glared at it for a moment, reading the caller ID, and then glared at the nurse, who gestured in a not so subtle hint to take whatever he had _outside_.

Snarling under his breath, he stalked outside and flipped open the cell phone and barked his usual greeting.

"Oh dear," the unusually grave voice fretted, "That bad, hm?"

Gibbs sighed angrily, pacing around the courtyard before finally plopping down on a bench facing the fountain.

"Jethro?" The worried voice came through the phone.

"Yeah Duck," he whispered, his glare dying as he spoke, leaving him looking blank as he stared at nothing, "That bad."

Ducky sighed, knowing that his friend would be nearly insufferable until Anthony returned safe and sound to his rather unorthodox NCIS family. Unfortunately, Gibbs' somewhat overprotective and biased opinion of the boy didn't help his attempt at gathering over-the-phone information.

"Mr. Palmer and I will be there as soon as we can," he paused, thinking, then chuckled, "And Abby too, of course. She's been having a bit of a nervous breakdown," Ducky's voice grew hesitant, unsure, "Her, ah, _gut_, seems to be telling her that this altercation that young Anthony was involved in was a little more serious than McGee let over on the phone."

Gibbs merely sighed again, wincing as he imagined how Abby would act. She would tear into the hospital in her platform boots and her running mascara, _demanding_ that they let her in to see a "Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo". When no one would respond, she would turn her accusing eyes on him, angrily pleading with him to do something. He wouldn't say anything, merely open his arms and hold her while she sobbed against his chest and mumbled almost incoherently about how Tony always seemed to get himself into these situations and how the bad guys always seem to hurt him. He would stand there, rubbing her back, and offer the only comfort he really could. His presence.

"Thanks Duck," he said, trying to get a better handle on his unfamiliar emotions as he snapped the phone shut on Ducky's silent reply. He quickly slid his Marine façade on as he burst through the doors of the hospital, making all it its occupants jump. The nurse leapt up again and merely glowered at him. Tempted to give her a good ass chewing, he took a menacing step forward. Somewhat satisfied when she took a startled step back, he allowed a small grin to play across his face. It quickly died when he remembered why he was there, playing tug-o-war with a nurse in the first place.

Finally, he shut his eyes and sighed, slumping into the closest chair. Gibbs sat there, right next to the door separating him from his agent. He hoped that only the door was separating Tony from him, and not death itself.

* * *

When McGee and Ziva arrived at the hospital, they found Gibbs in the worse state they could have imagined. Grieving.

His head was buried in his shaking hands. He didn't look up at the sound of their approach, and Ziva looked at him, horrified that she may have missed Tony's . . .

McGee shook his head silently. The Boss wouldn't be so calm if Tony were dead. He's be tearing around, yelling at nurses and scaring the shit out of the families and hospital employees. Not silent . . . no. He was waiting. Grieving before he'd even been given word.

Ziva nodded, her face grim. She reached out to touch him, her words cut off as her heart leapt in her throat. Quietly, she sat down in the chair beside him. Gibbs straightened himself silently and watched her. Hesitantly, she leaned her head against his shoulder. When he didn't move from her, she moved closer, tucking her head in the crook of his neck and burying her face in his shoulder, her eyes squeezed shut. Gibbs brought a hand up to her head and held her closer, not saying a word as her tears leaked out and slid down her face, soaking his blood-stained shirt.

McGee opened his mouth and quickly shut it, deciding it was wise not to disturb the ex-Marine and the ex-Mossad assassin. He turned to leave when he felt Gibbs' questioning gaze. Glancing back, he saw his boss was staring at him and looked like he was trying hard not to laugh.

McGee stared back, confusion written between the lines of pain and worry almost consuming his face. Gibbs shook his head minutely, careful not to disturb the now sleeping Israeli. He gestured at the chair next to Ziva and felt a surge of pride as McGee took a deep breath, carefully calming whatever emotions were swirling beneath the surface, and sat down next to Ziva, careful not to disturb her.

Within minutes, he was asleep as well, one hand holding Ziva's; his head back against the wall, his neck slightly angled. It was a position that could only be uncomfortable.

Gibbs smiled at the peaceful scene, happy to watch as the lines of exhaustion and dread was wiped from his team's faces by the kind of bliss that only a deep and dreamless sleep could bring.

* * *

There were some things that never changed, no matter how many times you woke up in a hospital. There was always the sound of machinery **beep**ing and a ventilator _whoosh_ing; these things both a comfort and a cause for concern.

Tony hated hospitals. He hated waking up disoriented, confused, scared and alone, as he had many times before he had reached the age or 18. As an adult, he had liked them even less. Waking up in a clean, silent, perfect hospital when the last thing you remembered was a ferocious gun fight and blinding pain, was not reassuring. The first time he was shot, he was fairly sure he had died. He realized shortly, that there were no red-faced bosses to fire you for putting yourself in the line of fire in the afterlife.

His first time injured at NCIS was thanks to an over-excited petty officer who was more than a little trigger happy. The wound was not too serious and Tony insisted that he didn't need to be kept overnight. But doctors never seem to agree, especially when they learn some peculiar fact about you while you're unconscious. Such as the fact that his next of kin was a fictional character from one of his favorite movies. And the fact that your boss seemed at a loss about your 'rather spotty' past.

That was when Gibbs had marched his way over to the nurse's desk, brushing past Ducky, and signed himself as Tony's next of kin. Tony, who was both shocked and touched by the ex-Marine's gesture, had never changed it. Except when Gibbs had 'retired' to Mexico. Ducky had insisted that he change it. Ducky, ever helpful, offered to be his next of kin. Tony agreed. The elderly doctor both knew of and understood Tony's rather unusual medical history, or lack of in some cases. It changed when Gibbs had came back, and Tony had almost gotten blown to bits by someone trying to kill his girlfriend/undercover assignment. Gibbs had stayed on his medical list while Tony was at sea, and stayed when he came home. Tony didn't know of anyone else who would better fit the slot, including his father.

Tony no longer hated hospitals. At least, not as much as he used to. As he listened to the solid breathing of the person in the chair next to him, he smiled and let himself relax in the unfamiliar room, Gibbs' presence comforting more than he could ever tell him.

* * *

Gibbs hated to see Tony in a hospital bed. It was unnerving for him to see the usually buoyant man so unnaturally still and it brought back the awful memories of Tony's numerous visits to Bethesda Medical Hospital. Tony in a blue room, fighting a demon that Gibbs could not help him with, except an order to survive. Tony, with his numerous concussions, gunshot and stab wounds. Not to mention the broken arm he had sustained as a child, and whatever other injuries he had been dealt.

Gibbs had been there for all of it, Tony's next of kin since that first case. That first injury, as well. Gibbs had been _livid_, learning that Tony's next of kin was a fictional character from his favorite movies. He marched his way over to the nurse's desk, brushing past Ducky, yanked a pen out of the container and, pressing the pen in so deep that he almost ripped the paper, signed himself as Tony's next of kin. He tossed the pen onto the surface and made his way back to the room where DiNozzo was resting peacefully, the pain medication and sedative relaxing his features in a way that Gibbs had never seen.

When Gibbs had fled to Mexico, taking time to sort out his heart, mind, soul and memories, he had forgotten about Tony. He knew that leaving, at least the way he did, was not his best decision. His memory, being fuzzy at best, made him forget how much they needed him. And, if he was being totally honest with himself, made him forget how much he needed _them_. He never expected anything to change. Not their trust in him or the team atmosphere. Not even the team itself.

He returned to find Tony a different man; worn, stressed, worried, tired, looking for all the world like a little boy in his father's shoes. McGee was a different man; confident, smug even. Ziva was . . . not the same either. Both had taken whatever respect they had for Tony, both personally and professionally, and tossed it out the window, making his job a living hell. He was pale and had wrinkles of pain around his eyes that had been absent before Gibbs' flight to Mexico.

When Gibbs had returned, he had neither mentioned or offered to, once again, be Tony's next of kin. Not until Tony had been almost killed by his car exploding. Gibbs, who had still thought of himself as Tony's next of kin, had his thoughts buzzing with the horrible thought of having to organize Tony's upcoming funeral. When Ducky dismally told him of his very similar thought, Gibbs was surprised. He asked Ducky when, exactly, Tony had changed it.

Ducky, a little worse for wear, had irritably replied, "When you **quit**, Jethro!" And had gone into a lecture about how Tony needed someone who was _in the country_, to be on his medical contact list. Gibbs had bit the inside of his cheek and said nothing, letting Ducky get all of his frustration, muted grief and pain out.

Although the Medical Examiner had apologized many times over for his outburst, Gibbs still had a heavy heart ridden with guilt and regret. When Tony had turned up at the NCIS building, looking like crap but still alive, Gibbs had wasted no time replacing Ducky's name with his own on Tony's medical paper.

Tony no longer hated hospitals. At least, not as much as he did when he first jumped ship from Baltimore PD to NCIS. Gibbs liked to thing that it had something to do with him never leaving Tony's side except for coffee and when Ducky and the medical staff practically shoved him out the door, with a not so subtle hit that he could use a shower and change of clothes. But most of the time, he didn't care. Gibbs would sit in the uncomfortable chair next to Tony bedside, with a cup of coffee and a book or magazine, and wait for his agent to wake. Most times, he slept at the hospitals too, much to Ducky's and the nurses' displeasure. And though Tony never mentioned it, Gibbs was pretty sure that his presence was comforting. If anything, at least Tony knew that he wasn't alone anymore.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the stop there. :P As much as I wanted to, I couldn't fit it all into one chapter. This is more of a filler chapter than anything. ****So . . . reviews please? I promise the next (and last) chapter will be up before long.**


	3. Together

**A/N: *sigh* I know! I know! But before you chew me out for not updating faster, could you read? Maybe this'll make up for my tardiness (somewhat). Happy 4****th**** of July, for all you Americans! :)**

* * *

Tony awoke to the sound of machines whirring and the sharp smell of disinfectant that was only found in hospitals. He kept his eyes closed, breathing deeply through his nose and trying to remember his surroundings. He was willing to bet his next paycheck that he was at Bethesda Hospital, which was quickly becoming his fourth home after his apartment, the NCIS building where he spent many a night, and Gibbs' house. Ducky had forced him to constantly meet with Dr. Pitt, who had him come in every winter so he could check on his rather unorthodox patient.

Tony sat quietly for a while, just listening to the sounds that floated into his quiet hospital room. The sounds of nurses arguing in the hallway and doctors chuckling over some ER patient's mishap involving a bike, a ramp and a pool. The sounds of birds chirping outside and dogs barking. But, most importantly, he listened to the steady breathing of the person beside him.

It wasn't McGee, who never made any noise in his sleep. Ziva snored, as he once put it, like a drunken sailor and Abby made soft, squeaky snores like a mouse. Ducky tended to mutter in his sleep and had once recited an entire story, much to the amusement of Tony and Gibbs. No, he knew who this was. Only the former Marine could fall asleep so peacefully in a hard plastic chair.

Slowly, wary of the nausea that generally accompanied the first thing he saw after he woke up from an injury, thanks to the pain medications, Tony opened his eyes and peered at the wall in front of him. Ever so slowly, he rolled his head to the right and focused his gaze on the silver-haired Marine, who had awoken and was staring at him

"Hey Boss," he rasped, his dry throat reminding him of its presence.

"Hey yourself, DiNozzo," Gibbs remarked as he picked up a glass of water and held it to Tony's parched lips.

Tony swallowed once, twice, and attempted a smile of gratitude.

"Thanks."

Gibbs nodded, unashamedly studying his agent.

Tony, starting to sweat under the ex-Marine's scrutiny, cleared his throat nervously and asked, "So, what happened this time?"

"You don't remember?" A pair of blue eyes watched him carefully for his reaction.

"Erm," Tony thought back to his most recent memory that was confirmed by a vicious pain below his collarbone.

Resisting the urge to look at it, Tony replied, "Gunfight, right? And I was . . . on the losing end?"

Gibbs snorted, "I wouldn't say you were on the _losing_ end. After all, you had Ziva on your side."

"Yeah," Tony coughed, grinning, "If I have to be in a gun fight with Ziva David, I might as well be on her side. Because you'd be pretty pissed if I went off and got myself killed."

Gibbs chuckled, relieved to see that DiNozzo's humor had survived the gunfight.

Tony beamed, always pleased that he was one of the few people who could ring a laugh out of the older man. His smile dimmed a little as he asked, worry slightly coloring his tone, "Speaking of which, where is Ziva? And McGee? Did they get out alright?"

Gibbs nodded, all serious as he answered, "They're fine. McGee's just a little shaken and Ziva got the bad guy before he got her."

Tony murmured quietly, "But not before he got me."

They lapsed into silence again. Gibbs watched as Tony stared at the wall, a calculating expression on his face. Tony's face lit up, but he quickly controlled it. Gibbs resisted the urge to roll his eyes; he knew what was coming.

"So," Tony began hesitantly.

Gibbs, deciding to give in before it even started, rolled his eyes and sighed, "Spit it out, Tony."

Tony gave a sharp nod of his head, "Right. Uh," he began chewing on his lower lip, one his many nervous habits, "I . . . uh, I was wondering . . . um, about rule twelve . . ."

Gibbs stared at him for a moment, his face unreadable.

Tony stared back, worried that he may have blundered right over the cautious line he always hid himself behind. That is, until, Gibbs started laughing.

Tony blinked at him, confused at the reaction he was getting.

Gibbs wiped at his eyes, trying to stop his laughter and not succeeding in the least bit.

Shaking his head, grinning, he stood. As he leaned over to clap Tony of the shoulder of his uninjured side, he murmured, "Yeah kid. Go ahead."

Gibbs shook ahead again as he walked out of Tony's room, smiling again as Tony's joyous shout echoed through the hallways.

* * *

Ziva took a deep breath . . . and hesitated. She shut her eyes for a brief moment, then opened them slowly, staring blankly at the door to Tony's hospital room.

What was she going to say when she went in there? What was there to say? She had exposed her true feelings to Tony and, whether he remembered or not, it made her feel . . . uncomfortable around him. Even when he was unconscious, due to the sedative the doctors had given him.

Ziva once again moved towards the door, only to stop herself when she heard voices inside. She listened, her ear pressed up against the door. She bit her lip, trying to determine who was talking. She hoped that, maybe, Tony wasn't awake yet. She wasn't sure if she could face him yet.

She sighed softly as she realized as she heard Tony's unmistakable cough and Gibbs' trademark deadpan voice. She leaned against the door, weary. It seemed it would soon be time to, as Tony would say, face the music.

She walked back down the hall, over to where the bathrooms and drinking fountain were. She leaned against the wall and slid down until she had folded herself into an awkward sitting position. She silently leaned her head back against the wall and shut her eyes.

She peeled her eyes open in shock at the unfamiliar bark of laughter that come from the room down the hall. She was even more surprised when Gibbs walked out, a slight smile on his face, and Tony's shout of joy that followed him out the door.

She watched him warily, not quite sure what to expect. But when he offered her his hand so he could pull her up into a standing position, she accepted. She grasped his hand and suddenly found herself standing, staring into sharp blue eyes.

"Gibbs," she said, staring at him warily, "What happened?"

Gibbs snorted, "Go ask DiNozzo. Something about rule twelve . . ."

She stared at him in confusion for a moment before awareness suddenly dawned on her face. She glanced at Tony's hospital door, then back at Gibbs. Quickly, she made her way down the hall, her heart and head pounding in rhythm.

She walked into Tony's room, without hesitation.

Gibbs gave an uncharacteristic grin as he heard Tony's door click shut.

* * *

_An Hour Later_

Ducky smiled at the twin expressions of joy he saw on the faces of his friends. _Well_, he thought ruefully, _it's about time_! Tony and Ziva had been watching each other, happily oblivious to the world around them for the past five minutes. Not that anyone minded.

He had given Tony a quick once-over, at Gibbs' request, and found him to be healing at a wonderful pace. The four of them had been sitting together in companionable silence for a while before Abby plowed in, her pigtails flying, dragging McGee and Palmer in behind her. Tony grinned happily at all of them and Ducky sighed contently, glad to have everything righted in their rather unorthodox NCIS family.

Not too long later, Ducky found himself looked around the room and smiling at what he saw. Abby had plopped herself on the edge of Tony's bed with McGee hand in hers, firmly holding him beside her. Gibbs had been alternately sitting and standing at Tony's shoulder and Ziva had a firm grip on his hand, her thumb tracing small circles on his skin. Ducky had placed himself at the foot of Tony's bed and Jimmy stood beside him with a Tony worthy grin on his face.

They were all there where they should be, gathered around a fallen teammate. And though Tony would be out of the hospital in a few weeks, Ducky was sure that they would remain just like this; together

* * *

**A/N: Do you guys remember when this was supposed to be a majorly depressing one-shot and nothing more? *rolls eyes* But one will do many things when under duress. Such as write a companion chapter . . . or two. But let me tell you, never again will I post a WIP. . . It's just not worth the stress. Especially when the writer's block hits . . .**

**So . . . this story is *stamps* COMPLETE!**

**Keep a look out for my new fanfic! It's a series of one shots based off of the lyrics of the song, "Glitter in the Air" by P!nk.**

**See you and thanks for reading!**

**~Remmy :)**


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